The Pureblood Saga
by TiffanyandCo
Summary: They were born with names that would become their defining characteristics, and with power unequaled. In a world of perfection, four Purebloods find pain, the strength to survive it -and time to laugh-, as idols fall and Voldemort rises, and war rages on.


**The Pureblood Saga**

**By Tiffany&Co**

**Summary: **Some hate them. Some love them. Some envy them, and all respect them with the kind of awe that only they can inspire. They are the living embodiment of power, of elegance. They have been here through kings and Ministers, since the beginning of magic. They shape our world. Voldemort? A passing fool who would be nothing if not for them. Their name means more than it suggests…

They are the Purebloods.

**Rating: **PG-13 (rather strong language, it was worse before I edited it a bit)

**Description/Genre: **General/Romance/Drama, a little Adventure/Action, and possibly a bit of humor.

**a/n: **Don't you hate it that there are no Slytherin girls? They can't possibly be only Pansy and Millicent, right? Anyway, there are several original characters in this, mostly girls, and Blaise, who counts as original because JK Rowling didn't elaborate on anything but his name.

I'm aiming for three reviews. I'll still update, of course, but I really enjoy those long constructive criticism ones. But just to let you know, it might be a LONG wait for the next Chapter, because I'm terribly busy and haven't gotten any sleep for the last week or so. DIET COKE! MUST HAVE DIET COKE! And so, my muse has been cracking under all the stress, and has been drunk on Diet Coke and Frappachino's fed to her through an IV.

Also, the quote might not directly relate to the story, but rather some part I cut out, but I liked the quote enough to keep it.

.::.

**Chapter One**

**Bad Beginnings **

**"True love is expiring…" -Valerie in The Princess Bride, by S. Morgenstern, abridged by W. Goldman**

Draco Malfoy coolly appraised the girl standing in front of him.

She stared just as coldly back.

Draco was still smarting from the bout on the train with Potter and his little Mudblood gang. That had been the ultimate humiliation, more shame than he had ever known. Reduced to some pathetic slug on a luggage cart for everyone to gawk at, a pathetic loser, a moron, a freak show. It had hurt more than his ego; it had damaged something further.

It had taken all his energy not to cry, or even turn red. Amid laughter and ridicule, after being smashed on the bottom of the Potter Boot, he had waited for someone to find him and cure him, namely a Slytherin girl he was particularly good friends with. He wanted to run and hide. But Malfoy's do not.

Again he reached into the seemingly bottomless reserve of strength and self-control he had amassed…

And he found something close to courage.

He had smirked as if nothing had happened, greeted his mother politely, and sauntered off calmly and arrogantly, not at all stiff, rather as if he was in a good mood, as if he and Potter had traded places. He had walked slowly, taking his time, letting everyone see him.

He was Draco Malfoy and no one could ever defeat him.

And it was this look that was in his eyes and he looked up and down at the girl Narcissa Malfoy had decided to introduce him to. Hmm.

"Scarlett Pireas," Narcissa had informed him briskly on the train there, while smoothing his clothes and fixing his hair. "Half English and half Chinese, but she's got some French mixed in there, I'm sure. Legend has it her grandfather, English royalty, several generations back kidnapped the Chinese princess in the Opium Wars, but he ended up getting her pregnant, so they married, got exiled, and then formed their own small army and threatened to demolish England _and _China if their child wasn't recognized as the legitimate ruler of both."

"So is this 'Scarlett' the ruler of anything anymore now that England's descended into the chaos of democracy?"

"Her father, Amaedo, still has command of a lot of the, --Goodness, Draco, you need a haircut. I'll have to fix that up-- countryside, including Winchester, Cornwall, and Wales. She had a younger brother, of course, you'll have heard of him, Geril Pireas, killed by Auror three years ago, and if you so much as mention him to the Pireas's they all go completely mad, so don't. They've got a considerably large amount of land for a single family, just a tad less than ours, and strong holdings in several business ventures. More influential in China, of course, and not nearly as powerful as us in England, but still they are nothing to be trifled with. They're infamous for the private, elite, well-trained army they've kept ever since the Opium Wars."

"So half Chinese, half English, rich powerful family with private army. To be treated diplomatically, and charmingly, but never to defer to, because we're still superior. Noted, mother. What about this Scarlett?"

"Fifteen and very pretty. Black hair, which your cousin Hesperus has been said to love running his fingers though. Brown eyes, the curse of the family, but they're fairly tolerable. Decent figure, good clothes, and the belle of the ball wherever she goes, due to her extraordinary charm and dancing ability. I've heard nothing special about her disposition, but it seems to be bordering on the temperamental side. Privately tutored by the famous Li-San himself, and very bright. She has a talent for dueling -typical for her family-, transfiguration, and charms. She abhors the very mention of potions, and cannot grow anything for the life of her."

"Terrible at potions? I suppose that's to my advantage."

"I'm not entirely sure. She's been dubbed un-charmable after Sebastian Montague failed to entice her to dance with him at the last Spring Ball they hosted. And she completely ignores Vincent and Gregory, and Mrs. Derrik has informed me that she never showed the least response to her son's offers."

"Fascinating," Draco drawled, very bored by now. He gave himself one final look in the mirror, examining his flawless hair, and then began pacing his compartment like a tiger in a cage.

"You'll be in charge of accommodating her while she stays with us, Draco."

Like always, there was a double meaning to his mother's words. Be your usual charming, thoughtful, gentlemanly self and make yet another rich daughter fall in love with you, is what Narcissa meant.

_No problem._

Draco walked out of the train, chin held high, face politely interested, and examined the girl out of the corner of his eye while helping Narcissa out. Scarlett and Narcissa exchanged greetings. He bowed low to Scarlett Pireas, and she offered a hand.

_Pretty enough. Her nose is bit too flat, and her mouth's a bit too small. But she's got nice eyes. And her figure's skinny enough to satisfy. _

Draco was being a bit overly critical. Scarlett was a bit more than satisfactory, with long curling black hair, soft and shining, pinned up. Her eyes, though brown, leaned towards a gold-ish autumn and were tip-tilted and wide, framed by long, starry lashes. Her complexion was creamy golden, without the least hint of the Quidditch tan that Draco had. Her lips were red and full, but her general mouth small, and though her nose might have been on the flat side, it was rather lost in the glory of her complete face. Everything about Scarlett was elegant, graceful with just a hint of arrogance in the way she held herself. There was no wariness in her eyes, no restrictions, no fear at all of him. Her chin jutted off defiantly; her eyebrows raised just a bit as to be mocking.

_Fine, so she is gorgeous. But her nose is still too flat, and she doesn't look all that kind. It's ridiculous how arrogant she acts. No common courtesy at all. But she is gorgeous. Pretty enough for a Malfoy. I'll have a nice challenge charming her. _

Her hand was small and pale, the nails perfectly done, the fingers graceful and tapering, a pianist's fingers. _Not a potion master's fingers, and not working fingers. _They were the fingers of a respectable Pureblood lady, and he had held countless others just like hers. _Just another beautiful, perfect, accomplished lady. Yet another one. Gods, this is tiring, I wish I fancied males or something. Wait, no, no, I don't. _He held it gently and brought the soft, intoxicatingly-scented hand to his lips and just brushed it.

"Draco Malfoy."

She continued her silent examination of him. _Does she find me satisfactory, I wonder? As if she had a choice. _

"Miss Scarlett Pireas."

"It is an honor, Miss Scarlett."

"I would prefer Miss Pireas, if you please, Mister Malfoy."

"At your service… Miss Pireas."

"Shall we be getting on our way then?"

"Of course."

_What is this, the 53rd girl mother's brought home? We'll see if this one lasts a week._

.::.

Sir Andrew Pireas stood, next to his daughter, peering nervously along the tracks, thumping his foot and adjusting his monocle. His wife looked bemusedly at him, and calmly began adjusting the folds of Scarlett's dress.

"Now darling, remember. The Malfoy's are very English, and you'll address the elder as Lord, younger as Mister, mother as Missus. They might introduce you to some other people. Recite the social order again, sweet?"

"Minister -Fudge who Fudges all-, Marquis -old stuffy farts-, Lord -that's old Malfoy and dad-, Sir -that's someone who bribed an Order of Merlin-, Mister -that's Draco the dumb-, idiot -everyone I just mentioned-."

"Scarlett!"

"Have a little faith in me mother, how bad can they be? They're out of favor, aren't they?"

"The Malfoy's are never out of favor," Her father interrupted. "Because they are never in favor. They are not favored, they do the favoring. Even if the Dark Lord declared them his worst enemies, to be hated even above Harry Potter, they would still be the most powerful."

"They go deeper than any pathetic Dark Lord."

"Shhh!"

"Sorry, Andrew."

"The Malfoy men are the most talented. Their mansions are wonders of architecture. Their businesses most successful. Their servants most loyal. Their children the most perfect. Their women are said to be more beautiful than veela's, but of course, not more than your ravishing mother here."

Mrs. Samantha Pireas giggled and blushed.

"All right, all right. Got it. Malfoy's. The whole world is in their palm, they're like demi-gods, the stuff of legend, I will be sure to kow-tow at Draco Malfoy's feet and kiss the ground he's walked on."

"Oh, Scarlett, I wish you wouldn't tease at a time like this."

"I'm perfectly serious. I will lick clean the plates they have used, treasure their used handkerchiefs, use my toothbrush to clean-,"

"Scarlett, please."

"Fine. I'm not stupid, I know how to charm 16-year-old boys. They're all big-headed stupid morons obsessed with Quidditch and girl's-,"

"Scarlett."

"Mother."

"Scarlett."

"Father."

"Do not insult the Malfoy's. Do not sacrifice your dignity as a Pireas. Do not embarrass us. Do not-,"

"Here's their train, you two better leave."

"My little girl, at her first summer ball. Her debut. Her first invita-,"

"Come along, let's leave Scarlett alone."

_Oh, yes, great idea, leave poor old Scarlett alone with Demi-god Draco and his mum. I do hope he's cute, preferably tall too. Tall and dark-haired with green eyes and muscles and-_

_Oh, god they're here. Stepping out… polite nod… yes, it's them._

_What do I call her? What do I do? Oh, god, what if she hates me? What if-_

"Missus Malfoy? Miss Scarlett, it's a pleasure."

"And it goes both ways. Have you been waiting here by yourself, Scarlett?"

"Just a few minutes."

"That can't hardly be proper!"

_Oh, no, I'm not proper. I wonder what mum will say if the Malfoy's toss me out on my backside. _

"We'll have to make sure Draco accompanies you from now on, Scarlett," Narcissa added, smiling. "We can't have your reputation being ruined, now can we? Just yesterday Mrs. Derrik was telling me how fond her son is of you."

_Mrs. Derrik? That idiot's mother? They both look like someone smashed their faces in with a club. They're even uglier than her husband, and that's saying a lot. _

"Yes, I so enjoyed her Spring Ball. Simply lovely, Mrs. Derrik outdid herself."

"Well, we'll be seeing if we can outdo her, won't we?"

And after several minutes of small talk, in which Scarlett could easily tell Draco wasn't listening to at all, she suddenly proffered her hand to him, trying to catch him off guard. But instead, he smoothly took it and gave it the customary kiss.

They went through their usual introductions.

_Well, he's certainly not that tall. Probably less than an inch taller than me. And his hair! He looks like he's bald! My god, he's hideous! And his eyes are so terribly plain. Grey? And his chin is so pointed, he could stab me with it! And he's so pale. You can tell he's tanned a bit, because his cheeks are so red, but he's still almost whiter than me!_

_Oh, gods mother, the Malfoy's may be rich, but their men are all ugly excuses for gargoyles!_

.::.

On the way home, Draco continued "charming" Scarlett, who went along with the whole pretense.

"So do you fly, Miss Pireas?"

_Well, she certainly likes me. Not that I'm surprised. But so quickly… and here I was thinking she would be a challenge. It must be the hair. _

"Yes, actually, I played Quidditch a bit with my brothers when I was younger. I was Chaser."

_My god, he's repulsive. Too much grease! Must inch away! Great gods, he's inching closer! _

"I play Seeker for Slytherin at Hogwarts. Would you like to play sometime? We have a wonderful pitch at the Manor." 

__

_Wait 'till she sees me flying. _

"N-. I would love to. I'm afraid I didn't bring a broom."

_He doesn't know I'm not allowed to. I might as well take advantage of this opportunity to fly a bit. Mother will never know if I wear gloves, I can't possibly get calluses through gloves!_

"I'm sure we'll have one for you, won't we, Mother?"

"Of course."

"You're too kind."

_Oh, my god. Does he think I'm going to… bed… him or something this very night? Why is he coming closer? Please, go away. Please, please, please… I can smell his hair gel! Oh, sickening… I think I shall… vomit…_

"Did you enjoy Hogwarts, Mister Malfoy?" Scarlett forced herself to smile and breathe, though the smell was very pungent. It reminded her of burning rubber mixed with a broken lavatory.

"Oh, quite. Though I must say, the teaching standard has gone very far down this year. It was never high to being with…"

Scarlett stopped listening. She felt sick. That smell…

_Oh, my goodness. I can't breathe. Everything's spinning. What are these little blue lights?_

She vomited all over Draco Malfoy, then fainted.

_My god, she… puked on me! She smells awful! Why didn't she say she was sick?_

.::.

Blaise Zambini observed Draco Malfoy silently, watching him be hexed into… something resembling a slug.

_That idiot. I offered him lessons, but no. Malfoy's don't take lessons. As if Zambini's offer them that easily. I was doing him a favor._

He shrugged, and turned back to his book, a thick one titled, The Very Thick and Complicated Book of Runes that Never Come Up in Normal Conversation and That Very Few People Will Ever Understand. Why would Blaise Zambini, whose rich Pureblood family owned a large portion of Diagon Alley, want with Runes he would never use?

Well, Zambini, as he was called, or occasionally Zami or Zam by a friend, was interested in Ancient Runes, but that wasn't why he was reading it.

No, it was not his long-time interest of Runes or even his long-time hobby of reading that drew him to this enormously thick black book. It was because, after twenty pages of very boring information on the rune for disembowelment, it became a different book, one titled, The Memoirs of Celebus Zambini: Wizard, Merchant, and the Most Hated Man Alive. Most hated man dead, now. Celebus Zambini was Zambini's most infamous ancestor.

He had joined Grindelwald, only to join Dumbledore as a spy. Dumbledore thought he was secretly reporting back to him, but he was really reporting back to Grindelwald that he was reporting back to Dumbledore. Only Dumbledore knew he was reporting back to Grindelwald that he was reporting back to Dumbledore, because he was _really_ reporting back to Dumbledore that he was reporting back to Grindelwald that was reporting back to Dumbledore. But Grindelwald thought that he was reporting-

Anyway, Celebus was selling secrets to both sides, and making a tidy profit. He sold weapons, mercenaries, captured wands, spells, books, maps, anything. War Merchant, he called himself, and the Ministry threatened to snap his wand in half when they found out. But of course, he escaped, became a pirate, and lived richly, both sides after his blood. After they burned his ship, he started a chain of infamous inns with infamous waitresses with infamously low-cut dresses. He made millions of Galleons off this, before he was put out of business, again by the Ministry who had realized that Subelec Inibmaz was really Celebus Zambini. He then infiltrated the Ministry somehow, became Junior Secretary to the Minister, almost Minister himself, and got a bunch of really odd laws passed, including one that said all women who own a purple robe must cut holes in it and wear it every Sunday.

All in all, he lived a thoroughly hilarious, adventurous, unlawful life, and it was rumored that he was still alive. Zambini wouldn't doubt it; he wouldn't put anything by his great-grandfather.

Right now, he wished he could be Celebus Zambini, on a pirate ship surrounded by beautiful women, but instead was trapped in a train compartment with Millicent Bulstrode, Chantette Avery, and Aless Vemer.

Millicent Bulstrode was bulky, short, and had an oddly square ugly face with a wrinkled nose that reminded Zambini of a raisin. Zambini regarded her intellect very highly, the way he regarded Neville as brilliant. She was neither Ravenclaw-smart nor Slytherin-cunning, and Zambini was sure she was almost sorted a Hufflepuff, save for her nastiness. She was completely unaware that she was ugly and very stupid, and so was convinced that Zambini was madly in love with her.

Chantette Avery was pretty enough, but her hand was running up and down Zambini's shoulder, and getting perilously close to his other, valued, body parts. She was the resident Slytherin pass-around, and ferociously proud of it. She openly kept handcuffs in her drawer, and no one needed to ask about them. Chantette was naturally cunning, manipulative and clever, and did well in most subjects, and was the most influential girl in the year, save perhaps Pansy Parkinson. She was charmingly evil, selfish, unreasonable, and proud of it, and the boys adored her. The girls were terrified of her; if you got on her bad side, she would exact revenge second to none.

Aless Vemer was more than pretty. She was simply beautiful, in the traditional sense. Her hair was long and blonde and curling, tucked neatly behind her ears, and her sky-blue eyes gazed innocently at Zambini. Her figure was slender, though not as enticingly curvy or full as Chantette's. Unfortunately for the Slytherin male population, Aless Vemer preferred women. In second year, she had been Chantette's best friend, and had told her. But when Draco, the most sought-after snogging partner in Slytherin, and perhaps in Hogwarts, had asked her out, Chantette had flown into a jealous rage and told. Aless hadn't minded. Rather, Aless's best friends were boys, who there was no awkwardness around at all. She could give them advice on how to charm the respective girls they fancied, help them pick out Christmas presents, explain to them why girl this or girl that did something or other, and even teach them how to kiss properly. She was witty, satirical, kind and sweet. She was a bit wary of strangers, but seemed to make it her personal duty to ensure that she never allow any harm to come to anyone she liked.

She was the only girl Zambini respected in the compartment. She got along quite well with him, and he liked an educated girl with a vocabulary of more than a few words. And now, caught between two desperately flirting girls, one whom he would never consider, and the other whom he had gotten tired of after months of Astronomy Tower meetings, he looked pleadingly to her, begging her to get him OUT of this situation.

Aless grinned and winked at him. _He owes me big time. _"Milli, what are you wearing to Draco's Midsummer Ball? I heard his theme might be roses this year."__

"What? Roses?" Chantette burst out. "I thought… I thought he said… but…"

"Yes, he told me specifically he was leaning towards roses. He even suggested I buy a pink dress."

"But… how…" Millicent said desperately. "I got a green one!"

"Better than mine! Blue!"

"You might go check with Pansy over at the other end, she's got a bunch of plans from him, and the new catalogue, too. Or the food witch, she's selling magazines, too. They're bound to publish the Malfoy's Ball theme."

"Come on, Milli! Just imagine… roses! How romantic…"

And so Chantette and Millicent drifted out, sighing at the thought of Draco handing them a single rose.

_There goes two of my problems, anyway. _

"Gods, I owe you so bloody much, Lessy!"

"Yes, you certainly do. Draco's completely changed his ideas, it's going to be a Masque Ball."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm. And it's going to be brilliant, perfect, utterly spectacular! Romantic and beautiful and… just amazing. Grand and intimate at the same time. I was helping Mrs. Malfoy design the dining room. Everyone comes under a faux name, and it's got to be old-fashioned too."

"Really?"

"You ought to go as Celebus, but of course that'd be too obvious. Maybe Subelec, then."

"Really?"

"Or you could pull a completely original name out of that bottomless well of ingenuity you seem to have. Take something off the vast shelves of your inspired ideas? Like, Lord Griffin. Or Emperor Basilisk, or…"

"Really?"

"Are you listening to anything I'm saying, Zami?"

"Not really. Come on, I didn't have you lure away Raisin-Nose and The Bra-less One so we talk more about balls."

"All right, fine. I'll just take my raptures over to a more appreciative ear. Perhaps Draco."

"He's busy."

"Doing what?"

"Er… well…"

_Zam's hiding something. Definitely hiding something. Is Draco snogging Pansy again? Hope not, Chanty 'll have my head. Maybe something illegal? No, Zam would still tell me. And I would know anyway. Draco tells me all of his plans. No, he's definitely in unplanned trouble._

"What's he doing, Zam? Snogging some first year?" Aless draped an arm around him, and inched closer, her thigh rubbing against his. She leaned her head against his chest, so her long hair fell through his fingers. "Come on, Zami, what's Draco doing?" When no answer came, she slid onto his lap, and put both arms around his heck, entwining her legs with his, her lips temptingly close.

_Wonderful thing about not liking men. You can charm them all you like and not be called a whore. _

Zambini was not comfortable. I mean, he loved having a girl as pretty as Aless in his lap, of course, but they both knew she liked women, so he couldn't act on his feelings. And that was very hard on a man. It was terribly irritating, just sitting there, not being able to snog the sense out of her.

"Aless?"

"Mmhmm?" She snuggled deeper, her warm body pressing against his.

"Please."

"Please what, Zami?"

"You know."

"Zami, what? I'm not telepathic, no matter how incredibly brilliant I may seem at times."

"Aless, you're not male, you have no idea how horrible this is for me. Get off."

"Zami, you know you're enjoying this."

"Aless, I'm not! I can't do anything with you, and you know it!"

"Zami…"

"Lessy, please!"

"Zam, where's Draco?"

_Lessy's not going to like this. _"Luggage rack."

"Luggage rack?!"

.::.

"DRACO! DRACO! DRACO MALFOY, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Aless was panicking, tears stinging her eyes, all cleverness abandoned. She scoured every luggage rack she came across; there were luggage racks lining every hallway. With one arm she swept the trunks off the shelf, and they popped open, their contents spilling everywhere. She didn't care. She just moved on to the next one, frantically digging through them.

"Oh, Draco… where did you… DRACO?!"

She kept running and then…

She came across a luggage rack, the trunks scattered everywhere. She had gone in a circle.

She fell onto her knees in the hall, rocking back and forth in despair. The tears welling up in her eyes now ran hot down her face. Where was he? What had they done to him?

_Oh, Draco… Draco, what did they do? Draco, I'm so sorry… I wasn't there… Draco… Draco, where are you?_

She couldn't stop the image of Draco lying bleeding or something on the carpet, or Draco crying out with pain, or Draco mutated or hexed or cursed or… humiliated. She knew what he would have gone through. Physical suffering, he could stand. It killed her to see him suffer, but physical pain was nothing to him. But it was the idea of Draco, her wonderful sweet arrogant cocky foolish boyish mischievous strong kind Draco, her Draco who was so much more that she couldn't describe, having the spirit sucked out of him. He was going to lose. He was going to suffer as only those who fight but know they are destined to lose do. Harry Potter, the wonderful, brave, tragically suffering Potter, he was going to win and the Wizarding world was going to cheer as he ground her Draco into dust.

_Draco… I'd give anything to have been there… _

And the image of Draco crying gave her resolve and she stood and continued looking.

And when she found him, bloated and hideous and squirming, and she saw whatever form of eyes were left sad and defeated, shattered, she could have hexed Potter into next week.

_How dare he. How dare them. How dare those cowardly… cruel… mindless… those bitches and bastards and bloody children of both. HOW DARE THEY._

And when she cured him, and found him lying on the ground for an instant, clutching the red carpet, jaw tight, complexion paler than ever, heart breaking, she wanted to hold him close and rock him like a baby. She wanted to keep him safe in a fantasy perfect world she'd invent just for him, wanted to please his every whim and mercilessly slaughter, no, Crucio, every damn bastard who'd dared to lay hands on him.

And when he stood up, color returning to his cheeks, and managed to act completely normal, managed to swagger and smirk and sneer, she was proud. Proud of Draco for facing the world, for whatever courage he had found for whatever reason. And she was also proud of their world, their elite, rich, elegant, beautiful, arrogant world that sneered in the face of death and faced things everyday those "Aurors" and the "Light Side" could never imagine. They spit in the face of society and they didn't wince when it retaliated.

She watched Draco walk away, turning a bit to give her a thankful glance, and she gave a nod. They understood each other. They respected each other, and liked each other, and enjoyed each other's company, but Aless knew when you needed to be alone. So as much as she wanted to, she did not follow.

_I'll kill Potter, my god, I will. How dare he? The naïve stupid idiots. They will never know what they did to him, will they? They'll just think it was some sick joke and that "right" is conquering the bad guys. Those delusional pathetic blind murdering idiots. _

And she looked at Draco's receding figure one more time, hurting as only best friends do, some unknown emotion painfully burning its way through her, sweet and pure and so painful she started crying again. She watched him go and understood, not for the first time, where exactly the Slytherin-Gryffindor enmity had come from. 

.::.

**a/n: **In case you are, like I am, a Gone With the Wind fan, that is where I got the name; I love it, it's so dramatic and original and feminine.

And, I do also LOVE The Princess Bride, the book, not the movie, though the movie is excellent as well. Just nowhere as good as the book.

Should the Weasley's count as purebloods? Hmm… Ginny, maybe, Fred and George, who knows?


End file.
